Delirium
by MetaKnightRoxMySox
Summary: He'd always been alone, meant to be perfect but was inhuman. The result of a failed genetic experiment, he will have his revenge.
1. Linger

Delirium

**1: Linger**

The small boy turned his mask around in his hands. This mask, a simple comic's mask, one side black and one side white, had turned into everything he was and could be. White. He could be good, like white. He could use his "talents" for goodness, to help people. Or black. He could be as terrible as black. They didn't deserve his services. He could do such horrible things to them, things as horrible as what they had done to him.

The mask smiled up at him in its peculiarly creepy way. The boy growled and sat completely down, sinking further into the muck of the basement. He'd been hiding in the basement of the corporation for months, biding his time, thinking, planning. It didn't matter how thin he had gotten, how hungry and thirsty and tired he was. All that mattered was this revenge. It possibly meant his death, but he didn't care about dying as long as he did some damage first. After what they'd done…

The boy placed his mask on his face, feeling a modicum of strength come back to him. He stood. He was short, barely reaching four feet. He was dressed in the only clothes he had been able to find; a jester's motley bearing purple and yellow stripes. How he hated it, but it went well with his mask. Besides, jesters were supposed to be crazy, and he was, wasn't he?

He was meant to perfect, handpicked straight from the best genes. His "parents" had spent months deciding everything that was supposed to be him. Blue eyes, black hair, with a fair complexion. He was supposed to be their perfect little angel.

But then again, things go rarely as planned. He came out deformed, different, too different for anybody's tastes. His face, his hideous face, how it was twisted into a mockery of human form. Out of sheer spite, they'd made it even uglier with their burns and their scars. That was his first memory, that pain.

Oh, there were other side effects too. He had an unnatural level of intelligence for his age. He was weak physically, but very strong in mind, so strong that he had developed abilities akin to magical powers. Even without his disfigurement, people could tell he was something not entirely human.

All his life, he'd been alone. Every time he tried to reach out, every time he called for help, he was chased away. Nobody had ever said a single kind thing to him. They'd thrown him out, hardly more than a newborn. They'd expected him to die, but of course he hadn't. He was too strong for that. All those insults hurled at him, soon he would hurl them back a thousand fold. Soon they would pay. Soon.

The boy leaned back against the grimy wall. He looked at the ceiling, intense, icy blue eyes peering out of the eyeholes of the grinning mask, boring straight into the flimsy material. Any second now. He smiled wryly, his expression matching that of the black and white mask. Soon. Now.

Screams of panic and terror filled the rooms upstairs, and the boy calmly strode over to the staircase, grinning widely under the mask, blue eyes sparkling intensely.


	2. Inferno

**2: Inferno**

Flames crackled behind him as he walked through the lab. He didn't care, confidant that his invisible shields would protect him and thoroughly enjoying the sound of destruction the fire brought. There was nobody here, of course. Everyone had evacuated, or tried to; he could hear distant screams and cries of agony and fear. Oh well, the boy thought. They were small enough casualties compared to the justice he was about to deliver.

He stopped, looking up at the machine that loomed over him. He smiled underneath his mask, his icy blue eyes glaring coldly. He'd arrived at his destination. This is the place where he was born, a few tiny cells in a test tube. He raised a hand, then paused, spotting the papers and reports that littered the tables around the room. He slowly walked around, reading what he could through the smoke, leaving the materials alone knowing the fire would take care of them.

The papers told him all he needed to know. Now he could be sure this was the right place. Names and order numbers, lists of requirements and demands. Everybody wanting their perfect child. He could see that they had taken to secretly destroying any evidence of failed growths, to cover up their atrociously high error rate. He smirked with disdain, then turned back to the huge machine lurking in the back of the room.

It was sleek, made to look good. There were several different but identical sections. Each came with its own panel of buttons and measuring devices, along with a viewing window. Inside most of the windows, the boy could see babies at various stages of growth. He wished he could save them, but it was better that they not be born at all. They needn't be unnatural like him.

With an air of finality, he raised his hand. A bit of concentration, and a spark of energy appeared in his palm. It grew bigger and more violent, crackling madly with energy waiting to be released. Purples and yellows appeared, dancing crazily as he took a deep breath. Then, with a single flick of the wrist, he sent the ball of energy directly at the birthing machine. It started to short out as he prepared more energy blasts. As it was hit again and again, the machine caught fire, the metal denting inwards with each impact. One by one, the windows burst open, the liquid inside flowing out in shifting streams. The room shook with the rocking of the machine and the violence of his attacks.

He stopped, nothing left of the machine but hunks of twisted and smoking metal. He inspected it, making sure that not a single of piece of it could return to working order. Satisfied, he turned and headed for the exit to the building. He had already destroyed the vital notes and blueprints. It would take a long time for anyone to rediscover and rebuild this technology. After all, Para-Rise was the first company to experiment with this kind of thing. He had taught them the consequences of toying with such things.

He walked directly through the fire, completely unscathed. He casually opened the front door and stepped outside to a scene of utter chaos. Firemen were pounding the building with gushes of water blasted from fire engines. A crowd of people milled about behind police tape, mumbling delicately to themselves as the injured were loaded into ambulances. Every single one of them stopped and stared at him as he lightly strolled down the stairs.

He continued forward to the street, and paused to stare right back at them. None of them would return his gaze. Slowly, he reached up and took off his mask. There was a collective gasp of horror, and quite a few women fainted. He smiled wickedly and gave a theatric bow, before replacing the mask and continuing down the street. Behind him, the building gave a great crack and started to collapse. Nobody stopped him as he disappeared into the shadows, vanishing from their sight forever.


End file.
